Killing Death
by Clove Smoker
Summary: A year after the Impala was sideswiped by a truck Sam and Dean follow the Demon to Salem MA only to run into a woman who seems strangely familiar to the elder Winchester... they say you can't kill death...the demon is about to test that theory...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Teaser

If this were a horror film, she reflected, she'd probably be screaming wildly as she ran down the narrow tree-lined path. It wasn't though, so she didn't. In this moment, she really didn't need to drawn any more attention to herself. After the first two seconds of pure unadulterated panic, adrenaline kicked in and with it an unexpectedly Zen-like calm, and a primal self-preservation instinct. Run quickly, but carefully, she thought, or you'll wear yourself out. And if you trip and fall, it's all over. Her boots were already making enough noise as they crunched against the loose gravel, so she moved closer to the trees, muffling her footsteps in the dull mud at the edge of the path. She could still hear the pounding of her heart and each ragged breath that was torn out of her, but essential body functions were out of her control. The less noise she made, the less chance it had in finding her. Of course if she simply stayed on the path she was currently following, it wouldn't need to track her, it just had to wait for her to slow down. She needed to get away, but she wasn't quite desperate enough to take her chances in the surrounding woods. The terrain was far too uneven, and she might end up safe in town, or she might end up running right off a cliff. The odds were almost evenly matched but judging by her luck lately, they weren't in her favor.

She actually laughed out loud at that last thought. She was now thinking in terms of luck? What a human construct. She probably would have cried if she didn't need to conserve all her energy for survival. She tore her eyes from the path ahead, assuring herself it was even, and chanced a look behind her. All she saw was darkness. She couldn't hear it behind her either, but she could feel it. Earlier, when she'd realized it had cut off her only exit she'd turned to Jimmy in those first moments of terror. He, she realized, didn't quite understand the severity of the situation and he'd pushed her in one direction around the quarry and had sprinted off in the other, towards the lighthouse. The path was circular, connecting up on the other side of the stony lacuna, and even though it offered few chances of escape, she'd started to run. Staying still meant death.

Now, however, as she tried to think of another way out, she was discovering that guilt was an equally strong human motivator, even if it was slightly delayed. She heard a muffled cry from the other side of the quarry. She frowned, trying to catch her breath. She thought it had been following her. Surely it hadn't caught up with him? She shuddered- what if there was more than one? They didn't want her that bad, did they? She wasn't important, just a loose end, why would they send two? She could feel it behind her, and felt slightly reassured to her own surprise. If it was still after her, Jimmy was safe, for the time being at least. Right?

If she turned around she was dead. If she continued down the circular path she was dead. If she just stopped, she was dead. Dead, dead, dead. Now that's what you'd call ironic, she thought with an almost manic grin. She knew she shouldn't be afraid of death, but she was. She wasn't ready to go. She had unfinished business, and was just getting the hang of living.

She found new determination, and with it a plan. I'm being chased by a fire demon, she thought, cataloguing. I'm running towards the ocean. Salt water. What could possibly be better? Sure, it wasn't as effective on Demons as it was on ghosts, but it was a purifying agent and surely would slow it down. She couldn't kill this thing, not yet anyways, but just maybe she could get out of this alive so she could figure out a way. She turned sharply, as she almost missed the path that led down to the rocky shoreline by the water. Hopefully Jimmy would see it as their only way out, picking their way across the rocks, and once there she could convince him to swim to the rocks that cropped up from the waves twenty feet out.

She scrambled down past the circle that often held campfires, crawling carefully over the slippery rocks. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. She took a deep breath. It was now or never.

The plunge into the water paralyzed her for a moment as her system adjusted to the shock of the harsh icy water. She fumbled for the zippers on her boots, letting them sink to the ocean floor rather than get dragged down with them. She kicked out, stifling a cry as her feet scraped against barnacle-encrusted rocks. She swam furiously forward, forcing herself not to surface until she felt the rocky shelf with her hands. A wave swept by, slamming her body against the ocean floor, and she willed herself to stay conscious despite the pain. She dragged her aching body up onto the damp stones, her skin stinging, her eyes burning. She turned, slowly standing up, hoping to beckon Jimmy to her. He wasn't on the shore. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Two dark figures stood on the edge of the overlook. One stepped forward, one stepped back towards the edge. Jimmy had taken the wrong path. He was trapped at the edge of the overlook. He took another step.

"Jimmy, no!" she cried, finally breaking down, unable to stop herself. The figures turned towards her, and she could see Jimmy's face, illuminated by the moonlight. He was smiling. The dark figure lunged. Jimmy stepped calmly over the edge.

She wasn't sure if she screamed as he plunged to the rocks below. She felt like the sound had been turned off, her ears filled with a faint ringing. She tore her eyes from Jimmy's broken body splayed across the jagged rocks, and stared across at the figure that stood on the rock she'd plunged into the ocean from. It was motionless, and she forced herself to turn her back on it, her eyes searching the open sea for a boat that could take her to relative safety. It all seemed so unnaturally quiet and empty. It can't end like this, she thought. It can't end like this.

She'd been right. The demon couldn't cross the salty water to get her, and neither could its magic. But nothing could stop a well-aimed rock from sailing through the air and colliding with her skull.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

(imagine fire, the logo, and creaking noises here)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Our Kind of Job

"I think we might be too late," Sam said, taking a large swig of coffee.

"We're not too late. There's gotta be something. Even if the demon's left town, there has to be some kind of trail or something," Dean insisted. "I'll get us a room, you put that college-learning to work and hit the books."

"Fine." Sam got out of the car where Dean had pulled over near the center of town. He shook his head slightly in disgust at the "Bewitched" statue that stood in a small square. Salem. It was one of the few towns in the country that was usually supernaturally quiet due to the fact that most people and creatures that lived life on the other side tended to view the spot as somewhat cliché. It would be like aliens going to Roswell. It was just way too predictable. But Ash had been adamant over the phone. Two weeks ago the right kind of activity had cropped up in this town and the area surrounding it. A year since their dad had died and it seemed like they were always one step behind. Not that they would know what to do if they happened to catch up. Dean always seemed confident that if they followed it for long enough, a weakness would become apparent. Sam felt like they were both going through the motions at this point, and if something didn't happen soon, there wouldn't be much of them left to fight the damn demon. He sighed, and climbed the steps to the library.

Dean took his time scoping out the few motels in town. He knew that there probably wouldn't be much for them to check out, but also knew that he and Sammy needed a few days to just bum around and recover from the daily grind of spirit-hunting. He had been intentionally dragging his feet because as much as he wanted to find the demon and kill it, the reality of that happening was slim with the information they had currently, and although he was willing to risk his own life, he wasn't willing to risk Sam's. So he followed Ash's information, always making sure they stayed one step behind, stretching out jobs, stretching out drives. As far as he could tell Sam hadn't noticed. He stared out the window as he drove, scoping out where there was a bar, where there was a liquor store. Some days were harder than others, and today he felt he was gonna need something to get through. He had just registered at a small motel by the highway under the name John Fogerty when he felt his phone buzz in his jacket pocket.

"Yeah?" he answered. Ever since his father had died, it was a fair assumption that the only person calling was Sam.

"I've got something," was all Sam said. They didn't say hello or goodbye anymore. There was no point. "Pick me up." Dean pocketed the room key and got back into the Impala.

"Where to?" he asked as Sam jumped into the car. He flipped off a car that honked as it swerved around where he'd pulled over.

"The hospital. Might be nothing, but I've got a feeling, seems like our kind of thing." Sam seemed in a better mood now that he had something to figure out.

"Your call, Psychic Wonder. So, what's this something you mentioned?"

"A Jane Doe admitted to the hospital two weeks ago, just around the time all the activity was going on. Apparently she was found on some rocks about half a mile away from the shoreline up at a place called Halibut Point just north of here. She was found unconscious by a lobster trapper and has been in a coma ever since. Also found that day was a local man, James Lee, 22, who apparently fell to his death from a nearby cliff. His body has since disappeared from the town's funeral home." Sam looked over at his brother with an eager look.

"Well," Dean conceded. "It's a start."

It took them ten minutes and two wrong turns to find the hospital, and it was six by the time they made it to the ICU. A matronly nurse headed towards them purposefully, and Dean quickly shoved his little brother in her way. If anyone could get them in past visiting hours, it was Sam and his sad puppy-dog eyes. Sure enough, a minute later the woman was putting her hand on Sam's shoulder, and Dean was slipping past down the hall, peering into rooms to find the girl in question. She was in the last room at the end of the hall. He entered slowly.

She was young, probably around Sam's age, which was admittedly not much younger than Dean, although sometimes he felt as though there were decades between them. The girl had chin length black hair and smooth pale skin. If Sam were asked, he wouldn't have pegged her as Dean's type, since even in unconsciousness she looked a little too sensible, a little too intelligent, a classic beauty, not a Barbie-beauty. Dean, however, found himself sitting down once he'd snagged her charts, tracing the lines of her face with his gaze. There was nothing visibly wrong with her, although the charts noted that she'd been treated for abrasions to her arms, legs and feet, and a severe blow to the back of her head, most likely received when her skull had struck the large rock she'd been found on. Although scans had revealed no lasting trauma, it was decided that she suffered from a severe brain edema, resulting in a chronic vegetative state. They didn't expect her to wake up. Dean sighed. She had probably been partying with her boyfriend. Skinny-dipping while drunk wasn't exactly the safest of activities. Still, he paused on his way out the door, he had a strange feeling of déjà vu, and he wondered if maybe Sammy was right about this being part of something larger.

"So what did you find out?" he asked once they were back in the car.

"Well, Nurse Jones was good enough to tell me about our mysterious Jane Doe. Apparently the girl has been living in town for the past six months, working at a local pub. It turned out she was living under a fake name, and was getting paid under the table. The cops didn't want to get the pub's owners in trouble, so they registered her as a Jane Doe. She'd been friends with the guy who died, apparently he met her in the mid-west while visiting friends, and he brought her back with him. Well-liked by everyone, nobody really was close to her except, conveniently the dead man. Now they're trying to figure out what to do with her, long-term. They're viewing it as an accident. She said that tests came back negative for drugs or alcohol, although the cops seem pretty leery of that."

"So did you get this fake name she was going under?" Dean pulled into a parallel parking spot near the pub.

"Tessa. Apparently everyone knew her as Tessa."


End file.
